biblical encouragement Archives

Moving Forward When Self-Doubt Holds You Back

Posted on April 7, 2026April 6, 2026 by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

There are moments when I realize the greatest resistance to the life God is inviting me into isn’t the enemy, my circumstances, or a lack of opportunity—it’s me.

More specifically, it’s my self-doubt, my habit of comparison, and my tendency to procrastinate when obedience feels unclear or uncomfortable.

I second-guess everything.

Even when God opens a door, I pause at the threshold, questioning whether I heard Him correctly, whether I’m qualified, or whether someone else could do it better. Instead of moving forward, I linger in uncertainty, convincing myself I just need a little more confirmation, a little more clarity, or—if I’m honest—a safer plan.

Self-Doubt: When I Question What God Has Already Confirmed

Self-doubt has a quiet way of disguising itself as humility or wisdom. But often, it’s simply unbelief dressed up as caution.

God speaks, and I immediately respond with questions:

What if I’m wrong?
What if I fail?
What if I misunderstood Him?

Yet Scripture reminds me that God is not vague or confusing with His children.

“For God is not a God of confusion but of peace.” (1 Corinthians 14:33)

When I constantly second-guess what God has already made clear, I end up trusting my insecurity more than His voice. I forget that He knows my limitations—and still chooses me.

“Being confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion.” (Philippians 1:6)

Comparison: Looking Sideways Instead of Forward

Comparison is another trap that pulls me out of alignment with God’s will. When I focus on what others are doing, how fast they’re moving, or how successful they appear, I lose sight of my own assignment.

Comparison distorts my perspective. It makes me feel behind when God never asked me to run someone else’s race.

“Let us not become conceited, provoking and envying each other.” (Galatians 5:26)

God’s plan for my life is personal and intentional. When I measure myself against others, I unintentionally declare that His design wasn’t enough—or that His timing needs improvement.

Procrastination: Delayed Obedience in Disguise

Procrastination often shows up when faith is required.

When God asks me to step out before I feel ready, I default to waiting. Waiting to feel more confident. Waiting to feel more prepared. Waiting until I have a clear, step-by-step plan.

But delayed obedience is still disobedience.

“If you know the good you ought to do and don’t do it, you sin.” (James 4:17)

Faith was never meant to be comfortable. It was meant to be trusting.

My Obsession with Process vs. God’s Invitation to Faith

I love a process. A formula. A clear roadmap.

But God keeps reminding me that while processes have their place, they are not meant to replace faith. He doesn’t always give me the full plan—He gives me Himself.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” (Proverbs 3:5–6)

I want God to hand me a detailed outline, but He asks me to walk with Him instead. His Word is my guidebook. His presence is my assurance. His promises are my process.

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” (Psalm 119:105)

A lamp doesn’t illuminate miles ahead—it shows just enough for the next step. And that’s where faith lives.

Choosing Faith Over Fear

Walking in the fullness of all God has for me requires surrendering my need to control outcomes, timelines, and certainty. It means believing that obedience matters more than perfection, and movement matters more than mastery.

“For we live by faith, not by sight.” (2 Corinthians 5:7)

God isn’t waiting for me to feel fearless. He’s waiting for me to trust Him enough to move forward anyway.

When I stop second-guessing, stop comparing, and stop postponing obedience, I make room for God to do what only He can do.

And maybe the fullness I’m longing for isn’t found in having everything figured out—but in finally saying, “Yes, Lord,” and taking the next step.

Closing Prayer

Father God,
Thank You for Your patience with me—for never giving up on me even when I hesitate, second-guess, or delay obedience. You see the places where self-doubt has silenced my confidence, where comparison has distracted my focus, and where procrastination has kept me from stepping fully into what You’ve already prepared for me.

Lord, forgive me for the times I’ve trusted my fear more than Your voice, my need for control more than Your promises, and my own understanding more than Your Word. Teach me to walk by faith and not by sight. Help me release my obsession with having every step mapped out and instead anchor my life in You.

Your Word says You have plans to prosper me and not to harm me, plans to give me hope and a future. I choose to believe that today. I ask for courage to take the next step—even when it feels uncomfortable—and humility to follow You even when the path is unclear.

Let Your Word be my guidebook, Your Spirit be my counselor, and Your presence be my confidence. I surrender comparison, fear, and delay, and I choose obedience, trust, and faith.

Have Your way in me, Lord. I want all that You have for me.In Jesus’ name,
Amen.

Photo by Jonathan J. Castellon on Unsplash

Moments and Musings

Blessed To Be A Blessing

Posted on March 3, 2026January 9, 2026 by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

I’ve heard the phrase “blessed to be a blessing” my whole life, but it’s only in recent years that I’ve really begun to understand what it means. Not just as a cute saying or a line we nod along to in church—but as a way of living, trusting, and letting go.

If I’m honest, one of the clearest examples of this has always been my sweet sister. By default, she has been a blessing—to my mom and to me—over and over again. She didn’t have to be asked. She didn’t keep score. She just showed up. In big ways and small ones. In quiet sacrifices and loud love. When Mom needed help, my sister was there. When I needed encouragement, she was there. It flowed out of her naturally, like breathing. Watching her love has always reminded me that blessing others isn’t about excess—it’s about obedience and a willing heart.

The world tells us money is power. That it’s security. That it’s something to chase, hoard, fear, or worship. But I’ve never been able to see it that way. To me, money is a tool. Useful, yes—but not powerful. Not ultimate. Not worthy of fear. God alone holds that place.

And God has met my needs my entire life. Not always the way I expected. Not always early. But always faithfully.

A year ago, I was in a car accident, and something surprising happened. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t afraid. No spiraling thoughts. No panic. Just peace. I relied fully on God—and He did wonders. In that moment, I realized how far He had brought me, and how much trust He had already built in me without me even noticing.

Recently, I got to witness my sister being a blessing in someone else’s life, and it was beautiful. Truly beautiful. It reminded me again that blessing isn’t about having “extra.” It’s about being willing. God flows through people who keep their hands open.

Money, though? That’s been harder for me.

I’ve always been afraid of it. We didn’t have much growing up, and while Mom did her very best—and taught me a lot about survival—I also learned about the “magic” of credit cards. (Spoiler alert: not magic at all, and they always send a bill later.) Then I married someone who taught me another lesson: how selfishness can creep in, how wants can come before family needs, and how tithing becomes optional when trust in God is optional.

When my mom died, something shifted in me. The very first thing I did was increase my tithe to what it should have been all along. And I haven’t stopped since. Not because I suddenly had more money—but because I finally had more trust.

God has never, ever stopped being faithful to me. Even in seasons when I wasn’t faithful to Him. Even when fear was louder than faith. Imagine that kind of love.

I still struggle sometimes. Fear of money is a hard habit to break. Old mindsets don’t disappear overnight. But I’m getting better. Stronger. Freer. Every time I see God provide again, every time I get to bless someone else, every time I watch generosity multiply instead of deplete—I’m reminded why this matters.

God’s economy doesn’t look anything like the world’s. It’s not supposed to. If it did, we wouldn’t need Him nearly as much as we do—and let’s be honest, this world needs way more of Jesus. In God’s economy, giving doesn’t make you poorer. Trust doesn’t make you reckless. And blessing others doesn’t rob you—it aligns you.

And it’s important to remember that God’s provision isn’t just about money. Not when He gave Jesus. Not when Jesus poured out His blood. That was the ultimate payment. The debt we could never repay—paid in full.
“For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though He was rich, yet for your sake He became poor, so that you through His poverty might become rich” (2 Corinthians 8:9).

So why do I bother being afraid of something as fleeting as money?

I shouldn’t be.

Instead, I want to live open-handed. Grateful. Trusting. Willing to be a blessing the way my sister so naturally is. Because I don’t put my hope in numbers on a screen. I put my hope in the Lord—“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want” (Psalm 23:1).

So here I am—still learning. Still occasionally side-eyeing my bank account like it might jump out and scare me. Still reminding myself that money is a tool, not a tyrant, and definitely not my source. God is. Always has been. Always will be.

When I really stop and think about it, it’s almost laughable that I’m afraid of money. I serve the God who split seas, fed thousands with a kid’s lunch, and paid the greatest debt ever owed with His own Son. Compared to that, money is basically Monopoly cash. Useful? Sure. Powerful? Only if I let it be. Eternal? Not even close.

God’s economy is upside down by the world’s standards—and thank goodness for that. In His economy, generosity multiplies, faith beats fear, and blessing others somehow never leaves us lacking. “Give, and it will be given to you,” Jesus said—not as a threat, not as a transaction, but as a promise (Luke 6:38).

I don’t want to be ruled by fear over something so temporary. I want to be ruled by love—love for God, love for people, and the joy of getting to be a blessing.

Money comes and goes. God doesn’t. And when I remember that—really remember that—it becomes a whole lot easier to loosen my grip, open my hands, and smile… even while checking my bank account.

Moments and Musings

Just Sophia

Posted on February 19, 2026February 12, 2026 by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

Every time a child is born, families gather around and almost immediately begin comparing. Who does the baby look like? The mother or the father? Someone points out the eyes, another notices the nose, and before long the room is filled with opinions and laughter. It’s almost instinctive, this need to trace a child back to someone else, as if resemblance helps us understand where they belong. In a way, it feels like we’re all trying to claim a small piece of this brand-new person before we even know who they are.

I did the same thing.

When Sophia was born, I found myself searching for familiarity. I pulled up baby pictures of Emilie and studied them side by side, holding them next to each other and scanning for similarities. In those early days, it’s hard to tell—most babies look pretty much the same in the infancy stage. Soft faces, rounded cheeks, features that haven’t yet settled into anything distinct. At that stage, you’re mostly guessing.

But as Sophia grew out of that newborn look and into her baby face, things became clearer. Her features began to take shape, and it was obvious that she favored her father. The resemblance wasn’t subtle. Still, there were moments—certain expressions, tiny mannerisms, a look in her eyes—that reminded me of Emilie. Those moments felt important, like little confirmations that I was seeing something meaningful.

It’s such a common thing for families to do, and I commented on it often. I’d joke with Emilie, saying things like, “Sorry, she looks exactly like her father.” We laughed about it more than once. It felt harmless and lighthearted, just part of the way people talk about babies. No deeper meaning intended. Just conversation.

Then one day, during a similar exchange, Emilie said something that stopped me completely.

“She looks like Sophia to me,” she said. “Just Sophia. And that is all.”

That is all.

Her words lingered in the air long after the conversation moved on. At first, I wondered if I had unintentionally hurt her feelings with all the comparisons that seemed to leave her out. I replayed past comments in my head, questioning whether they landed differently than I meant them to.

But that wasn’t it at all.

She wasn’t offended. She wasn’t correcting me. She was simply stating a truth—plain, uncomplicated, and confident.

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was the same truth I’ve spoken over my own girls for years. Emilie looks like Emilie. Shelby looks like Shelby. Neither one looks exactly like me or their dad, and honestly, they don’t even look much like each other. Their connection isn’t found in identical features or shared expressions. They are connected by love, by history, by the life they’ve grown together—not by carbon-copy appearances.

Since overthinking is my superpower, I sat with Emilie’s words longer than most people probably would. I let them settle in my heart and mind, turning them over again and again. That reflection led me to Psalm 139:13–16—a passage that speaks so clearly about God’s intentional design.

It reminds us that God forms us carefully and purposefully, knitting us together with precision and love. That we are fearfully and wonderfully made, not accidentally assembled or loosely imagined. There is no other Vikki like me on this planet. Not one. That’s how intentional God is. Uniquely chosen. Uniquely made.

So when Emilie said, “She just looks like Sophia to me,” something clicked.

Of course she does.

Because there has never been—and never will be—another Sophia exactly like her. She doesn’t need to resemble anyone else to be worthy, to belong, or to be known. Whatever God has planned for her will be just as unique as the way she was created, shaped by a purpose meant only for her.

And maybe that’s the quiet lesson hidden beneath all those well-meaning family comparisons. Before we rush to decide who someone looks like, before we search for reflections of ourselves in them, we should pause. Long enough to see them fully. Long enough to recognize that they don’t need to resemble anyone else to be complete.

Sometimes, the most beautiful thing we can say about a person is simply this:
They look like themselves. And that is all.

Photo by me. @vikkilynnsorensen. All rights reserved.

Moments and Musings

From Goal-Getter to Grace-Seeker

Posted on January 27, 2026January 20, 2026 by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

I need to be honest here. Like pull-up-a-chair-and-confess honest.

I made goals. Big ones. Intentional ones. Prayerfully-written, color-coded-in-my-mind goals. If you’ve been with me at all this year, you already know this. If you haven’t, don’t worry—you can read all about them right here.

All five of them.

Yes. Five. With sub-goals accompanying each one. Because apparently I believe I am part human, part productivity app.

When I wrote these goals, I felt incredible. Inspired. Motivated. Practically unstoppable. I was that girl—the one who drinks her coffee while staring thoughtfully out the window, convinced she is about to become her “best self” by next Tuesday.

Fast forward one month.

Friends, I am unwell.

Instead of feeling accomplished, I feel anxious. Like someone blew a whistle and yelled, “GO!” and I didn’t realize I had signed up for a marathon—barefoot—while carrying a planner, a Bible, and unrealistic expectations. Suddenly it feels like time is running out and I’m already behind… even though no one set a deadline. Except me. I set the deadline. And then I forgot to give myself grace.

I keep reminding myself that new habits take time. Growth takes time. Change takes time. But apparently my patience has a very short shelf life. I want instant results. I want progress I can measure. I want gold stars. And when I don’t get them? I spiral.

To make matters worse, I lost an entire week to the flu. A whole week accomplishing absolutely nothing except surviving on crackers and cough drops. How dare my immune system interrupt my grand plans?!

So there I was, walking Percy, my emotional support dog who listens to my internal monologues whether he wants to or not. All of this was swirling in my head—the goals, the pressure, the frustration, the feeling that I was failing something I had just started.

And then the loudest thought rose to the surface, cutting through the chaos:

Keep God at the center of all this.

Because here’s the truth I know deep down: I can’t do anything without Him. Not one thing. Not one goal. Not one habit. Not one tiny step forward.

And that’s when the Lord gently—but very clearly—spoke to my heart:

“Then why are you trying so hard?”

Oof.
Here we go.
Another loving, well-timed, Holy-Spirit mic drop.

“Be a Mary, not a Martha.”

If you know, you know.

Martha—busy, frazzled, doing all the things, exhausted, resentful, stressed out, wondering why no one appreciates her hustle.
Mary—sitting at the feet of Jesus, fully present, fully at peace, choosing the one thing that actually matters.

And suddenly it hit me.

When I wrote my goals, I did do it prayerfully. I really did. But if I’m being honest? I haven’t prayed much about them since. I’ve been too busy chasing them. Too busy managing them. Too busy trying to force progress instead of trusting the process.

Somewhere along the way, my goals quietly took the place of my stillness.

Goals are not bad. Not at all. They can be good, healthy, and God-honoring. But they were never meant to outrank obedience. They were never meant to compete with communion. They were never meant to pull me away from sitting at the feet of Jesus.

And here’s the big realization:
The best goal I could ever have—the only one that truly matters—is to be with Him.

To sit.
To listen.
To rest.
To trust.

So I’m choosing this: my goals will no longer be more important than what God wants me to do. If He asks me to slow down, I slow down. If He rearranges my plans, I’ll let Him. If He says, “Come sit with Me,” then that’s the win for the day.

Because I have this quiet, holy feeling that if I place my goals back into His hands, He’ll arrange them in a way that actually makes sense. In a way that brings peace instead of pressure. Purpose instead of panic.

And maybe—just maybe—I can finally stop running around like a chicken with its head cut off… and start walking at the pace of grace.

Mary chose the better portion.And honestly?
I want that goal more than all of mine combined.

Moments and Musings

My Word for 2026: Content

Posted on December 30, 2025December 30, 2025 by Vikki Lynn Sorensen

At the end of each year, God gives me a word to carry into the new one.
It’s not a goal or a resolution—it’s an invitation.
Something to focus on. Something to press into. Something to grow in.

For 2026, that word is content.

And no, I don’t mean content like social media posts or blog writing.
I mean content as a state of mind and heart.
Being at peace. Resting. Fully appreciating all God has done and living in the moment He’s placed me in.

This has been a lifelong struggle for me.

I’ve often lived with one foot in my current season and one foot in the next—always wanting more, better, different, or extraordinary. Always looking ahead. Always imagining what could be instead of fully receiving what is.

Scripture speaks directly to this tension:

“I know how to be brought low, and I know how to abound. In any and every circumstance, I have learned the secret of facing plenty and hunger, abundance and need. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.”
— Philippians 4:12–13

The peak of this struggle came when my granddaughter was born. Suddenly, I found myself deeply unhappy with some of my choices. All I could think about was her. All I wanted was to be near her. My heart ached with longing, and instead of bringing that ache to God, I let it settle into discontent.

I won’t sugarcoat it—I spent the better part of this year living in that headspace.

Until recently, when God very clearly told me to stop.
Not gently.
Not subtly.
But firmly—like only a loving Father can.

In that moment, I realized something painful but necessary: I wasn’t just making myself miserable. I was affecting the people around me. My restlessness was spilling over. My discontent was contagious.

So I cried out to God and asked for forgiveness.
And then I humbled myself and did the same with those closest to me.

That’s when God gave me my word.

He reminded me that everything I have, I once prayed for.
I asked Him to move mountains—and He did.
I begged Him for provision, stability, healing, and direction—and He answered.

So who was I to suddenly find fault with the very life I had laid at His feet?

“But godliness with contentment is great gain.”
— 1 Timothy 6:6

Is my life perfect? No.
But perfection was never promised here.

True perfection waits for us in Heaven.

“He has made everything beautiful in its time.”
— Ecclesiastes 3:11

My life is relatively easy, and I am deeply grateful for that. I am blessed beyond measure, and I know—without a doubt—that God is not finished with me yet.

So while 2026 will be a big and busy year, it will also be a restful one—at least where my heart and emotional health are concerned.

I am choosing not to miss the moments God gives me because I’m too busy living five steps ahead. I want to be present. I want to notice the small things. I want to fully inhabit the season I’m standing in.

That doesn’t mean I won’t look ahead.

I will—wisely and prayerfully.

I’ll look ahead to seek God’s direction.
I’ll look ahead to plan.
I’ll look ahead knowing that every plan I make is ultimately placed back in His hands.

“In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.”
— Proverbs 16:9

But more than anything, I want to be here.
Right now.
Right where God has me.

Right in the center of His will.

A Gentle Reflection for You

As you look toward a new year, I invite you to ask yourself:

Where have I been restless instead of grateful?
What prayers has God already answered that I may be overlooking?
What would it look like to rest—not in circumstances—but in God’s faithfulness?

Maybe God has a word for you too.
Maybe it’s content.
Maybe it’s something else entirely.

Whatever it is, I pray you’ll listen—and lean in.

Because there is deep peace found when we stop striving for the next thing and start trusting God with this one.

“Keep your lives free from the love of money and be content with what you have, because God has said, ‘Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.’”
— Hebrews 13:5

If this resonated with you, I’d love to hear—what word are you carrying into the new year? 💛